6. Gavin
GAVIN
Tugging my scarf around me, I narrow my eyes against the wind that whips in through the trees, boots crunching on the snow as I head in the direction of her car.
The weather is better, that’s for sure, but the snow is starting to harden on the ground, and I can tell at a glance that it’s going to take a while for it to melt.
I kick a couple of frozen rocks out of the way, ducking snow-covered branches on either side of me, and stuff my hands into my pockets as I make my way towards the road to see if there’s any way I can hook her car up to my truck.
She is resting right now, dozed off in front of the fireplace; I left a note for her to tell her where I had gone, just in case she woke up and worried about it, but honestly, I need a little space to clear my head.
Not because I'm trying to forget, but because I don’t know what to make of the sudden connection I have with this woman who has come stumbling out of a blizzard and into my life.
Hooking up with her, there, in front of the fire…
fuck, it’s more than I have been able to get out of my head.
Her hands on me, her mouth on me, the sounds she made, the way she moved.
I haven’t been with a woman since before I was in lock-up, and I had forgotten what it felt like to truly feel that connection with another person.
Our mingled breath has landed a brand on me that I can’t shake, but that doesn’t mean I'm not distinctly aware of all the problems a man like me could bring into her life.
She is just out of a shitty relationship with some psycho abuser and she deserves an easy life, not one where she has to second-guess everything her partner does because they have a criminal record.
I could hear the hope in her tone when she suggested that we meet up when she was back with her sister, but that life, it's not for me, and I know it. Out here, that makes sense to me. I only have to worry about me, and I don’t know if I could stretch it to someone else, too.
I make my way through the forest, the sound of the snow under my boots enough to chill my overthinking for a while.
What matters isn’t what goes down between us.
What matters is making sure she is safe, that she’s free of that bastard and ready to focus on what comes next, not caught up with someone new who might hold her back.
I emerge onto the road next to her car, and find it nearly buried under a couple of feet of snow.
I shovel off as much as I can with my gloved hands, dropping it onto the ground beside me, and try to see if it has a hook-up or anything I can use to attach it to the van.
I know it will be a hell of a drive with that thing attached, but if it means she has everything she needs, then I’ll do it.
But before I can ponder on that any further, I hear the sound of an engine in the distance.
I frown, leaning on the car to watch the hump of the road ahead.
Hardly anyone passes through here at the best of times, let alone during a storm like this, and anyone driving these roads must be as desperate as she was when she came out in the first place.
To my surprise, a car crests the hill. A sleek, black vehicle that looks more suited to the city than the forest. And, as it approaches, it slows down and eventually pulls to a halt beside me, the driver pushing open the door and stepping out.
Something about him puts me on edge at once.
He moves with an unearned confidence, hair slicked to one side, face fresh-shaven, wearing a suit that probably cost more than the entire vehicle I was standing in front of right now.
He grinned at me in greeting, but it didn’t reach his eyes, something dark and shark-like about them.
“This your car?” he asks me, and I shake my head. It’s not a lie, after all.
“Nope. Why do you ask?”
The man takes a step forward, rubbing his gloved hands together, like he is trying to warm them up. They are leather, good-quality, but look as though they have hardly been worn, like he hasn’t done much driving for himself.
“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” he explains. “She came driving through here a few days ago, in a car like that one. I’m worried she got caught in the storm or something.”
“A friend?”
I cock an eyebrow. I see his jaw tighten slightly. I don’t know if I trust what he is saying to me right now. There’s an edge to it, a secret he doesn’t want spilled, and I know damn well when people have secrets they want to keep to themselves.
“A friend,” he repeats, a little more sharply than he did before. “You seen anyone pass through here?”
I shake my head.
“Nothing I’ve heard about.”
“So how did you find the car?”
I shrug.
“Found it slid off the road and into a snowdrift. Thought I would try to dig it out. Maybe sell some of the parts for scrap.”
It’s a lie, but something tells me not to come clean to this man about everything that has truly happened, the woman waiting back at the house.
My hackles are up, same way they were when I got housed in a cell with a killer for the first time, a guy who had gotten life and had nothing left to lose.
He had the same dark, cold gaze as the man before me now, and it didn’t sit right with me.
“You aren’t worried about who it could have been?” he demands. “Someone could have been hurt.”
“Would have happened days ago now,” I reply. “Whoever they are, they’re probably long gone by now. For better or worse.”
I can try to throw him off the scent as best I can, get him to keep driving on. I glance at his hand again, and wonder if it could have been the cause of the bruise around her wrist, the one I saw the day before last. The idea sends a flood of fury through me, and I bite it back.
The man reaches into his pocket and holds something out to me. It’s a card, printed with neat black text.
“Well, you see anyone wandering around out here, and you tell me, okay?” he insists, pushing it into my hand before I can decline. “I’m worried about my friend. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
I don’t reply, turning the card around in my hand to get a look at it. Ryan. Ryan Harris. That’s the name printed on it. Is Ryan the name she gave me for her ex? It rings a bell, but I need to confirm with her before I figure it out once and for all.
“Alright?”
He speaks again, clearly not willing to let me walk out of here without confirming. I slip the card into my pocket, resolving to bring it back to her.
“Don’t see many people out here. Doubt I’ll have anything to report.”
“But if you do…”
I can hear how irritated he is now, clearly frustrated that I'm not giving him what he wants. He’s a man used to that, used to getting whatever he puts his mind to. He cuts himself off, though, as if he can sense that he is not going to get anywhere trying to push that any further forward with me.
“You should get out of here,” I tell him, jerking my head towards the road. “Meant to get bad out here tonight, you don’t want to get caught in the storm.”
And Ryan just stands there for a moment, eyeing me.
It’s like there is something else he wants to say, but I don’t break his gaze, daring him to come out with it already.
He finally turns and gets back into his car without a word, taking off along the road again, and I watch until he is out of sight.
With a deep sense of unsettlement, I retreat back into the woods, wondering if Marie is awake yet.
And just what she will make of this encounter when I tell her about it.